Heir Apparent
by MadamMayday
Summary: When her father was murdered on the night of her eighteenth birthday, life as she knew was over. But her life as you know it had just begun. She is Jessamine Kaldwin, heir apparent. (Probably Corvo/Jessamine)
1. 1 - Simple Things

**A/N:** Hello, I am a lurker, and I have indeed been lurking for a good deal of time now. The last time I seriously lurked was when the Digimon section was bigger than Harry Potter. It's likely been equally as long since I delved into the world of writing fan fiction, but I intend to make this a full fledged side project.

In any case, those of you familiar with some of the more unique lore of Dishonored, may already know of the Corvo/Jessamine theories and such. Following that, this story takes place about twelve years before the events of Dishonored. We get tantalizing tid bits here and there that suggest Jessamine was in fact the most interesting character - that dies within the first fifteen minutes of gameplay. I had hoped during my first playthrough that there would be some unravelling about her character, and then... nothing. Sort of just, pulled the rug out from under that one immediately.

Thank goodness I'm here to rectify that situation.

xx Mayday

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Heir Apparent

Chapter One - Simple Things

In Dunwall Tower of the isle of Gristol, the heart of the Empire, a woman is standing overlooking the ocean. The only daughter of Emperor Euhorn, she is Jessamine Kaldwin, and today is her eighteenth birthday.

She was born in the high summer in the Month of Harvest, and while she relished in the ample sunlight present for her birthday, she couldn't stand the heat. Presently, Jessamine stood on her balcony, shaded from the direct glare of the light. She observed enormous plumes of cotton wool clouds on the eastern most horizons towards Kingsparrow Island, stark white and muddled with grey on an otherwise cloudless sky. Perhaps it would rain today.

There was hardly a breath of wind, and her dark raven hair didn't so much as stir a strand, which meant it was awfully humid and stuffy in her room. It was the type of humidity that caused all manner of hair and clothes to cling to her body like glue. Her Lord Protector, Galen Pirro, an aged man with hints of white whiskers and a hardened visage silently watched her from the other end of the room.

Jessamine's room was more of a disorderly study than anything else. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with essential and hobby reading material for the young heir apparent. Her rapier sat on a large comfortable chair beside an ornately carved desk piled high with official correspondence. If today had not been her birthday, Jessamine would have taken leave to The Hounds Pit pub, and taken turns between rounds of strong ale and noisy sparring.

No guard, or even her Lord Protector no matter how loyal, would dare tell her otherwise. Just like the Royal Guard, as a young woman Jessamine learned the finer points of operating whale oil machinery and repair, gambling, fist fighting, excessive drinking, and avenging her honor. As well as having would-be suitors running scared at the prospect of the pointy end of a rapier run through their small intestines.

It had been her father, Emperor Euhorn's idea to teach her how to handle a blade, and he approved of everything except what she did with it in her own time. Jessamine was far more wayward than he had hoped, and in time, he could only pray she accepted her responsibilities a bit more gracefully.

"Milady," Galen broke from the other end of the room. Jessamine turned around, and slumped her back and elbows against the stone rail of her balcony. "Your father requests your presence in the ballroom."

She frowned, parting her lips enough for a sigh to escape. It would undoubtedly regard preparations for her own coming of age party tonight. She nodded to her Lord Protector in acknowledgement, sauntering over to her dressing table. In front of the mirror, Jessamine observed the thick unruly waves of raven hair that hung below her breast. She brushed through her locks with noticeable effort, gathering it up and tying it against her head in a neat bun.

She stood up and was out of her room in only a few quick strides, Galen close behind. She moved around the hall in what a casual observer might call an absent-minded manner. In her left palm she held her gold Empress pin, rolling it between her fingers, eventually pinning it to her front. She turned to him once he had caught up, "I hadn't thought about it before," Jessamine started, "but this will be the last of my parties you shall attend as my Lord Protector." She said to the greying man. They descended down a flight of white marble steps, the small wooden heels of her boots echoed against the walls.

"Ah, Milady I am glad to resign. I have spent many years as your, and Emperor Euhorn's Lord Protector." He said, his face hardly shifting, although his tone hinted at relief. Her mouth twitched into a generous smile.

"Perhaps you shall move into a beach home on Serkonos," Jessamine suggested, continuing the small conversation as they made their way through the main hall. Galen motioned with his hand to veer right, towards the ballroom, she followed.

"Indeed," he said bleakly, although she caught the small hint of sentiment in his voice. When they reached the heavy doors of the ballroom, Jessamine pushed them open with relative ease. Indeed, the eve of her birthday dinner was upon them. All manner of decorations and preparations adored the ballroom in Dunwall Tower. The glass ceilings scattered the sunlight around like shards, against the pastel and stone walls, white marble floors and porcelain dishes in the hands of the maids.

She spotted her father in mid conversation with the Captain of the Watch, discussing safety precautions for the event. She paused to survey the room, clearly displeased. Her left heel beginning to turn away when Galen stopped her, fully aware of her wishes to abscond; and Jessamine realized that one hundred and eighty pounds of plate metal moves where it wills.

"Ah, yes Jessamine dear, I must speak with you about tonight." He paused to look her in her steel coloured eyes, his glare as sharp as a blade, "and no, I'm not asking for your opinion of the party."

She looked back at him, her brows knitting in the middle, "I'll hold my tongue," she said, and her disdain was audible. Emperor Euhorn murmured a 'thank you' to the Captain, who shot a confounded look at Jessamine before he bid the Emperor and herself adieu.

Emperor Euhorn led his daughter out of the ballroom, accompanied only by Galen. They stood outside the heavy doors, away from earshot between the maids and the Watch. Euhorn's mien was quite placid, he was happy for Jessamine. He knew despite her youthful boisterousness, she would make a fine Empress in his place when the time came. He sighed to himself, with another passing birthday that time was certainly approaching faster than he cared to admit.

"The party tonight will be shared with a celebration of Galen's retirement from his post," he began. Jessamine folded her arms across her chest, she was quizzical, but allowed him to continue. Even the Lord Protector's attention was piqued, although neither of them noticed beyond his usual demeanour of stoicism. "We've received an offer from the Serkonian ambassador for a suitable Lord Protector to fill the post. As a demonstration of our continuing bond between our empires, it is a monumental display of diversity."

"Well, then we'd be foolish not to accept." Jessamine glanced at Galen from the corner of her eye.

Euhorn's lips curled upwards in a smile, the creases along his eyes and mouth becoming suddenly more visible. "You'll make a fine Empress yet," he put a hand on his daughters shoulder, and his other hand dove into the pockets of his black slacks. He fished out a small wrapped box and handed it to Jessamine, "happy birthday dear." Jessamine found that she was beaming from ear to ear, and fell into Euhorn's burly embrace.

She spent much of her childhood between caretakers, yet despite the fact, their bond had remained strong and she did truly love her father. It was hard for a man such as Euhorn to adjust to both parental roles. Even if she was indeed born out of wedlock, he braved the early taunts and rumours of illegitimacy with fiery grace. Shortly after, not a single maid dared raise their tongue to Jessamine's birth right. She _was _his daughter, and the heir apparent to Gristol.

Jessamine had turned to leave when her father called to her, "before you go, you'll be meeting with them tonight, so be sure to dress and act accordingly."

"I'll do my best," Jessamine replied whole heartedly before taking her leave.


	2. 2 - Knife's Edge

Heir Apparent

Chapter Two - Knife's Edge

"They're fond of bright colours."

Galen turned suddenly beside Jessamine's door, startled. "I'm sorry?"

The Lady of Gristol was spending her remaining early evening time in the relative solitude of her room. There were very few times that Jessamine truly had any privacy, she controlled her expressions and doings with practiced dedication. It was disconcerting knowing that the eagle eyes of Dunwall were trained on all her doings. She pressed her lips together, stifling an outward show of discomfort.

"Serkonians, they have a likeness towards bright colours." She said answering Galen's query, Jessamine fondled the box her father gave her resolute on opening it after the party in a more private manner, she set it aside on her dressing table. She then adjusted the sleeves on her deep royal blue jacket before giving up and burying her hands in the pockets of her tapered and pressed black slacks. At present, she was allowing the years of forced lessons on the cultures of the Isles to pervade her thoughts, but not without certain bitterness.

Strictly rebellious or bitter would have been too harsh of words for Jessamine, she was _curious_, curious about whom she was. The Kaldwin's were not a long line of royalty, it was only when the previous empire bore no heirs was her father appointed the throne. She had been trying in futility to understand her royal expectation since the day her father was crowned. If the mould of heiress to the empire hadn't been suddenly fitted around her since her first blundering steps into the tower of Dunwall, what could she have become? Truth be told, she was afraid of the answer. Jessamine didn't know a life outside of privilege, but like a captain she was anchored to the ship of Dunwall, and would be until the day it sank. Despite her best efforts of ignoring her father's fascination with poetry, she likened herself to Ulysses, forever enslaved to the wanton desire for a different life.

Slowly, the soft patter of rain against the stone of her open balcony filtered through her reverie. Jessamine was greeted with several warm, fat drops of summer rain against her head and her bare neck as she reached to close the doors. As well as the sight of a Serkonian ship making for dock in the distance, the familiar flag soaring high alongside the mast. She turned to Galen, "rain is certainly not the most welcoming weather for ambassadors from the jewel of the south."

His silence permeated the room, simply nodding to Jessamine in response. Perhaps Galen had more to say about tonight than he let on, she thought, considering he didn't let on much at all. "Well, the guests will be here any moment." She said, "I'll be expected there to welcome them."

Jessamine ran her hand along the walls as she left the room, she kept her expression passive but her mind spun into motion at the thought of a night full of introductions and small talk. She had developed a taste for wine in the presence of events such as these. In addition, it was just now occurring to her that she would also have to make acquaintance with a new Lord Protector. She glanced at Galen with a hint of nostalgia; there were few men in such a position that allowed the leniency in her past times as he did. Perhaps she was more afraid than she thought, another year passing meant she inched closed still to abandoning all of those past times in favour of duty. It was not a pleasant thought, but she intended to at least enjoy tonight as much as was permissible.

The heavy doors to the ballroom were already open when she arrived. The plethoras of the usual guests were already present. The Captain of the watch, the ambassador of Gristol, the Lord Regent, the Royal Spymaster, and many other individuals related professionally or otherwise to the Kaldwins. The usual overwatch was present, mostly tending to the walls of light that blocked off restricted areas outside of the ballroom. Her father smiled when he saw her arrive, he always thought she was beautiful no matter what she wore.

"You look lovely, Jessamine," He said proudly, putting his arm around his daughters shoulder momentarily. "You remembered their taste for colour," he added slyly on a final thought. Jessamine sighed and nodded in response, not even realizing her mouth had twitched into a half smile. Her father turned to her suddenly, as if remembering something just then, "ah, the ship from Serkonos is anchoring likely as we speak; keep that in mind as the... guests distract you." His eyes darted directly behind Jessamine who tilted her head inquisitively in time to be greeted by a rather astir Waverly Boyle.

"Are you nervous about entering adulthood, Lady Jessamine?" She asked, "I'm sure you'll have to give up some of your interesting hobbies," Waverly added, sipping a glass of red wine that may as well have been filled with liquid disdain. She was dressed in a dark tapered pant, and a bright maroon blouse. Her pale hair was tied in an elegant bun, and the small slit of her bare, fair skin was decorated by a deep green stone hanging from her neck. Jessamine stifled a groan; she was honestly at opposite ends of the spectrum with the Boyle sisters. Each of them envied in their own unique way some aspect of her position as heiress. She wanted to explain that it wasn't an arrangement of glamour, but of responsibility. She was like Atlas, and the weight of the world would constantly be on her shoulders, when the time came. The most selfless duty one could ever be assigned was the role of an honest Empress.

Several responses registered in the forefront of Jessamine's thoughts, one of which involved asking if Ms. Boyle wanted to take it to the courtyard, with a rapier. But she found herself simply muttering, "Right, thank you for attending" and then tipping her head in a 'goodbye'. Jessamine curtly made her way to the ornate dinner table in the centre of the room, and poured herself a glass of wine. She took several exceptionally long sips. A tap on her shoulder followed by a mischievously demure laughter cut her scornful gaze short.

"'Thank you for attending' you can hardly stand the Boyle sisters! I really can't blame you, but that was a surprisingly conservative response for you," said the young olive skinned woman, who slinked beside Jessamine. She was dressed in a black tea length dress and matching heeled shoes. She kept her thick raven hair short, and usually didn't spend time decorating her face. Tonight however she was adorned with a maroon, wine coloured lip stain. For a baker's apprentice, she had surprisingly eloquent taste.

Jessamine giggled, "it's good to see you out of the oven too Delilah" said the young heiress, who earned herself a scoff out of the baker. Before she could utter another word, Delilah snatched the near empty glass of wine and finished it in a single swill.

"Here, I've got something to show you before anyone else tries to ruin your party," said Delilah taking Jessamine's arm. Her black heeled shoes echoed against the white marble floors as she lightly tugged Jessamine to the centre of the dessert table. "Get ready," she said excitedly putting her hand on the cover of a large serving dish. Jessamine gave a brief coy smile, her hands now resting on her hips. Delilah wasted no time unveiling her creation, and pulled off the silver cover. "Tadaa," she sang, hardly able to contain the prideful grin that stretched across her cheeks from ear to ear. Jessamine gasped at the delight before her. It was a beautiful, expertly made birthday cake. Large, pristine icing violets wrapped around the two tiered cake against a creamy white backdrop.

"Delilah..!" The Lady started, "it's beautiful I-"

"There's no need to thank me, it's your birthday, and every birthday needs a cake," Delilah interrupted, looking down at her shoes unable to shake her prominent grin.

Jessamine scoffed playfully, "I'm going to be appreciative and there's no amount of playing coy that's going to stop me," she chided, wrapping her arms around her old friend in a warm embrace.

"I did spend all day on it," Delilah said as if answering an unknown question. She broke Jessamine's squeeze and teasingly placed her hands on her hips as the Lady so commonly did. "Now go out there, don't drink too much wine, and be nice to the guests."

Jessamine swatted Delilah's hands down, "I'll make no such promises," she replied half-giggling.

However there would hardly be time for Jessamine to complete the usual gauntlet of greetings, as the room had shifted their attention to her father, who was now gathering the interest of the visitors, by tapping a knife against his wine glass calling a toast. The casual disjointed mutter spread across the ballroom gradually faded into quiet, with all eyes now fixated on the Emperor. "First and foremost, I would like to thank you all for coming and celebrating this monument in our Empire as we welcome our new Lord Protector hailing from Serkonos." He said, earning a fair amount of nods, "as well as my lovely daughter Jessamine's birthday!" Euhorn added, shifting his gaze towards his daughter, raising his glass. Jessamine gave a small shy wave in solidarity, to a modest handful of applause. He made several comments about Jessamine's childhood that made her cheeks burn scarlet and she found herself slinking away to the wall. It wasn't unexpected, but she was finding it less enjoyable every birthday.

Jessamine met Galen leaning against the nearby wall, and she walked briskly towards him. He watched her approach, almost smirking, "Ah," he said coughing, clearly trying to disguise laughter, "Emperor or not, it's your fathers job to embarrass you on your birthday," the Lord Protector said in the most unconvincing matter-of-fact tone he could muster, as Jessamine folded her arms in avid disagreement.

"Well it was more amusing when I was younger," she said, avoiding Galens gaze. She didn't want him to see the thought in her eyes, that every birthday it got harder and harder for her father to draw the line between his daughter and his heiress, it was wearing heavily on Jessamine. Galen simply shrugged, and she found that her time to brood was cut short by the doors swinging open.

Their presence was unmistakable, compared to the general mien of Dunwall, they were vibrant and dark toned, as if they were Dunwall's opposite. She watched her father greet them eagerly, and being the enthusiastic person her was she knew he'd want to not-so-subtly impress them with little touches here and there from their home. Of course, Jessamine too knew all there was to know about the Isles she was bound to inherit. She also knew her father, and that the music he'd just started playing was most definitely Serkonian.

Jessamine was aware that Serkonos wasn't well known for their expertise in the formal customs of Gristol, but she hardly expected anything like this. She could only imagine the riveted faces of the overseers that had never left their home Isle of Gristol, holding the mechanical music boxes behind their distinctive masks. The rhythmic tempo and the subtle undercurrent of melodic brass were specifically not from Dunwall. Her father especially seemed taken by surprise, but she could tell even he was finding it impossible to resist watching in fascination. Jessamine drew another slow sip of wine, which was slowly but surely settling itself into the base of her spine and would likely claim a say in some of her words. She turned towards Lady Boyle who had apparently absconded a while ago. She quickly found her in the centre of the ballroom; it was difficult to miss her scarlet blouse. It seemed like she had no qualms engaging in flirtatious dancing and as soon as she tired of one partner she would swing herself onto the next. Jessasmine hated to admit it, but the best word to describe it was sensual, in the mildest vocabulary. Waverly caught her mindless gaze and gave her a deviously coy smile. _I thought this was my party _Jessamine thought to herself.

"Jessamine," Her father's voice boomed excitedly in her ear shaking her out of her reverie. "I'd like you to meet the new Lord Protector," He said putting his hand on her shoulder again; "well pre-emptively," he added quickly, reminding her that the position wasn't official yet. She nodded and hurriedly finished what she had just decided was her last glass of wine, in one quick motion, leaving the glass behind on the table. With his arm still on her shoulder he led her towards the guests, they greeted her with a friendly demeanor and she reciprocated whilst beginning to feel the warmth of the wine now creeping up her spine. "This is Miguel, the ambassador of Serkonos," she shook his hand and dimly smiled.

"Welcome to Dunwall, I duly thank you for the opportunity," Jessamine replied, and her father turned the attention on to the other man beside Miguel. He stood with a fixed posture; he was sturdy, but not nearly as burly as GalenGaren was. With his sword strapped to his hip, his arms rested casually folded over his front. It was impossible to mistake him for anything other than Serkonian, since he surely wasn't a native of Dunwall, or Gristol. His skin was the colour of dark sand, and his hair as dark as burnt chestnut. It fell in thick layers just below his jaw line accented by a thin layer of whiskers. He was overall a fairly dusky man, and presently also quite reserved and difficult to study.

"Corvo Attano, your future Lord Protector," her father announced as if unveiling a great secret. She extended her hand again, and Corvo reciprocated. Jessamine held herself in the most appropriately regal manner she could, but the wine was beginning to encroach on her Empress territory. If anything, it certainly wasn't assisting the jumble of 'proper' responses that were currently melding together at the forefront of her thoughts. A short moment of sufficiently awkward silence crept over her, until her father interrupted, "I believe the Lady would like to make your acquaintance," he said ushering the ambassador over for a separate conversation of seeming importance. Jessamine gave a polite nod and turned to the starkly quiet, mildly rain damp Serkonian in front of her.

"Jessamine Kaldwin," she said immediately regretting the boring small talk initiative. She extended her hand to him, smiling. She already had one foot in the mud, there was no retreating now. Corvo reciprocated, although his facial expression hardly shifted.

"A pleasure," he said, retracting. Silence once again encased them in an invisible bubble. She noted almost immediately that he was unfamiliar with trivial interactions when on duty. Not that she was surprised, any soldier selected for a responsibility as noble as Lord Protector would be expected to behave no differently. He was not unlike many of the high overseers that roamed the Tower. She had grown accustomed to the distance they maintained. She felt more laidback with Galen, although he had also watched Jessamine grow up. It's hard to remain distant towards someone you've spent a large number of years sharing almost every intimate detail of your life with. But the thought of growing into womanhood with Corvo now watching over her was difficult to imagine.

"I hope your journey was pleasant," she inquired, and what could have been mistaken as a sigh escaped from Corvo's lips.

"It was fine, Your Majesty," he said with a tone that told her otherwise. Years of careful training in the art of speech enabled Jessamine to pick up on subtle details to sway a conversation others would normally miss. Unfortunately she wasn't the best at initiating the right conversations. Most of the time this was useful in arguments at The Hounds Pit, but she hoped it would prove its worth now by saving the dreadfully awkward encounter.

"You sound like you didn't want to leave," she said, folding her arms. "I don't blame you, living in the Jewel of the South, with the finest beaches in all the Isles covered in sand like fine sugar." He didn't respond.

"I've never been," she said, tearing her eyes away from her lovely handcrafted birthday cake at the far end of the room, "to Serkonos. I've studied much about it, though."

"It's lovely, not as much rain," he said, his eyes shifting to the large windows sporting a mosaic of raindrops against a bleak sky.

"Which city are you from?" Jessamine pressed further.

"Karnaca."

"Beautiful," her genuine interest in the Isles she would one day inherit was the only thing that had seemed to grab Corvo's attention. Her eyes wandered towards her father and the ambassador, she watched as her father tried to demonstrate his knowledge of Serkonian dancing and that was all it took for the bubble encasing them to suddenly burst. She couldn't help but smother a snort with her palms. Corvo noticed the failed attempt at concealed giggling and tilted his head slightly to observe the source. Unbeknownst to him, he looked like a curious animal and this only caused Jessamine to burst out into laughter. He found that his lips had curled upwards uncontrollably. When Jessamine regained her composure she spoke again, "I apologize for my father's... _different_ approach at welcoming guests."

Corvo relaxed into a casual grin, "forgive me if I admit I enjoyed his more."

"You are pardoned," Jessamine giggled, "only if you pardon me for the awful introduction," she said.

"The Grand Guard aren't the easiest to interact with, Your Majesty, I don't blame you." Corvo replied.

On the other side of the ballroom, Galen couldn't help but smile. She didn't like to admit it, but Jessamine put a lot of faith in people. As he watched her giggling like a child, and the future Lord Protector unable to resist the lure of her infectious laughter, he found it hard to believe that she had become what she was so quickly. He felt a strange sense of pride in being here on her eighteenth birthday, almost like a parent watches a child. He was proud to be a part of her life, in some small way.

There was only one being who comprehended what was about to happen. Chaos pulled him in like a moth to a flame, the higher it burned the more he observed. He was done watching her move passively, she had potential for interest. Like fate, that predatory misery, he was over the young Empress's shoulder, and he would not let this night pass unhindered.

As the sharp shattering of glass cut through the ballroom like the edge of a knife against a stone, The Outsider observed the first spark.

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**A/N: **Firstly, apologies for the wait between chapters, this must be what the rest of the Sherlock fandom feels like. But more importantly, thank you to all the lovely followers and favs! Secondly, I apologize for any messiness in this chapter. I tend to write a lot of projects at one time, and unfortunately fan fiction is a bit of a back burner thing - until my inbox began flooding with notifications that people were actually _reading_ this. I then forced myself down at two o'clock in the morning to string together my chapter drafts like an obsessive seamstress.

I originally wrote this chapter in one part, but due to the obscene length I found it was better to split it into two. Fingers crossed I don't interrupt the flow.

Alright, I'm living in the woods for ten days starting tomorrow, so until I return to civilized life, thank you all very much for sticking around.

xx Mayday


	3. 3 - Soldier Of Fortune

Heir Apparent

Chapter Three - Soldier Of Fortune

The ballroom was a chaotic symphony of piercing screams, the sharp metallic scraping of countless swords and rapiers, her heart giving an odd thump in her ears, and a breathless whisper. Then she saw him.

Standing in a pool of glittering glass debris was a man, a figure cloaked in black from head to toe. Even in the wake of her unfolding nightmare, she felt as if he was looking directly at her beyond the mask that shielded his face. As if she dreamt it in some strange cruel nightmare, he vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but a whisper behind. Then she felt him. He was beside her, impossibly, and he was speaking in words that sounded like distorted echoes, his voice like the shadows, a figment of a terror long passed. "What master do you serve?"

The moment her hands gripped the hilt of her rapier, the heartbreaking realization that he was gone caused her stomach to fill with lead. A bellowing noise filtered in through her dazed shell, and then two large arms were around her, dragging her away in what felt like slow motion. She heard someone yelling "get the Lady out!" and it sounded like Galen, but almost a million miles away.

She struggled desperately and in futility against Galen's plated arms tearing her away from the horror unfolding in front of her gunmetal eyes, but the shackles of powerlessness were stronger than any prison in the Isles. She saw her father, Emperor Euhorn, and he was trying desperately to search for her in the panic. She then had the dark realization as a ghostly apparition materialized into a blur of black clothes and a mask that it was not her life in danger.

There were only two moments in Euhorn Kaldwin's life that someone had dared to point a pistol at him. The first was in his youth, when he snuck into his father's gun cabinet and he quickly learned from his own father that guns were a tool of fear and destruction, and had no place in the Dunwall he intended to rule. Now, he found the barrel of a pistol against his temple, and he instinctively knew that it would be the last. His heart reached to his daughter, who was under the protective wing of Lord Protector Galen. She was looking at him and there were tears rolling down her glazed face as if she had no idea she was even crying. She was begging him with her eyes to tell her he would be okay, and Euhorn felt as if his heart were tearing in two. "It's going to be okay, love," he told her, trying to stay as steady as possible but his voice broke anyways. "I love you," but she couldn't hear him.

Emperor Euhorn gripped the arm attached to the pistol and twisted it backwards. He wasn't trying to cheat his way out of death, but he wouldn't let it take him in front of his daughter. The masked assassin groaned painfully and cursed, but he didn't seem truly phased. His arms exchanged the weapon, and he snapped back quickly, to reaffirm the presence of the gun pointed at the Emperor, and then in the blink of an eye he kicked behind the nook of Euhorn's knees, knocking him to the ground. Euhorn lunged at the assassin's legs, he drew his sword with a deafening yell, "this is my city, and will be for as long as I am still breathing, and as your Emperor, I command you to do only one thing."

"I don't care."

"Spare her."

"What?"

"The Outsider as my witness," the taboo name struck like a hammer in his assassin's ears, his voice was commanding and powerful, that of a man who had ruled for many years. For the first time, the assassin did not stir from his position, "if you ever harm Jessamine Kaldwin I will find you from beyond the void and in some form I will punish you for betraying your Emperor." He looked directly at the assassin, his eyes burning into the mask as if it didn't exist.

The assassin would find that he had nothing else to say to the Emperor.

Corvo watched as the shell shocked body of Jessamine was dragged away to safety. He found that despite his experience as a member of the Grand Guard, he could hardly breathe. The distorted voices of Miguel and Dunwall's Lord Protector, Galen all merged together until there was only one single unique voice that seemed to stand out. It whispered in his ear like static against the echoing boom of his pulsating heartbeat. "_Do it,_" it demanded, "_or don't, but that shot could be your only chance._"

He pulled his pistol up towards himself, the figures of Euhorn and the assailant weaving in and out of a deadly dance. It was inhuman how the assassin would appear, and then simultaneously collapse into a plume of darkness only vaguely in his likeness. One minute the blurry man was in clear view and the next his body was overlapping with a struggling Euhorn, fighting the knife pointed towards him. The sweat on Corvo's palms caused the firearm to slip down slightly. Euhorn evaded a deadly headlock by swiping the arm that held him in place, only to have it knocked down with a cut from the blade. There was no sense in the matter, purely instinct. Corvo cursed under his breath, he wasn't a killer, he was a guard, and right now he was just a man burdened with the responsibility of making the right decisions at the wrong time. "_The choice is yours, Corvo, but whatever it is, I expect it will be quite... interesting._"

Galen could only watch in horror as Jessamine cried and lashed out against him like a tormented animal. He shielded her with his arms and scanned through the chaos of the ballroom with eyes that were desperately fighting back emotion. The overseers were occupied with evacuation of the guests, there wasn't anyone left to defend the Emperor. He cursed; he was bound to the young Empress and refused to leave her side, which meant he couldn't eliminate the threat. Then he saw it – the glint of a pistol at the far end of the room, in the hands of the Serkonian Lord Protector. In one swift motion he lifted Jessamine up curling his body around her like a shield and barreled through the confusion, the glass crunching beneath his boots. Galen might not have been able to protect the Emperor, but _he_ could.

Corvo felt his teeth clenched together, he heard no more from the mysterious benefactor, and every second of silence felt like hours. All he needed was a single clean shot that wouldn't fatally wound the Emperor. Tiny beads of sweat began to surface on his brow, as the seconds ticked past him and he was forced to choose the fate of the most powerful figure in the Isles. For Corvo, there was no middle ground, he had to make a decision that could change every

thing, or do nothing and let the Emperor die. Corvo's fingertips dug into the handle of the pistol, he felt as if he were suddenly falling when he heard the voice of Galen commanding him through the barrage of screams, and he yelled only a single word.

"Shoot!"

There were only a few sensations Euhorn would remember feeling in the ensuing moments. The first was terror that came in a very sudden tidal wave and flooded his body like an ocean. It caused his heart to give an appropriately loud thump, and the second was something similar to a drop in a fast elevator. Because he had only staggered a few footsteps backwards against the white marble floors before the weight of his body shattered through the glass windows, and was plummeting towards the open mouth of the ocean. He would remember the violent sting of the frigid waters burying him in an icy cocoon that seemed to crawl into his veins, leaving everything a haze of murky blue and waterlogged noises. A plume of scarlet trailed behind him, staining the waters like a thick ink.

His vision was blurred and dimming, converging with black, and his lids closed as he desperately failed to cling to consciousness. In the ballroom, Jessamine screamed.

* * *

**A/N:** And there it is, the moment of truth. This chapter's a bit all over the place, but I needed to show the states of various secondary characters. This'll be the last thing I'll post before I return from my journey in the wilderness. I do have the fourth and fifth chapters almost finished, though.

On another note, including the Outsider was pretty dicey for me, but I felt that the way everything played out helped put some background on why he would pay attention at all to Corvo's involvement in Dunwall.

xx Mayday


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